


The Secret Gardener

by Drarrybutcanon



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Flowers, Gay, M/M, Spring, carry on, secret garden, spring fic extravaganza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-08 16:08:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarrybutcanon/pseuds/Drarrybutcanon
Summary: Simon finds a secret garden in the Wavering Woods and is instantly intrigued.





	1. Finding peace

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm so excited to be writing for the Snowbaz Spring Extravaganza (organized by amazing https://snowbazextravaganza.tumblr.com/)  
> Much thanks and cred to my wonderful beta: http://gotakobayashimarulife.tumblr.com/  
> I hope you enjoy :)

SIMON

 

I’m walking on wet grass, careful not to slip. It’s almost dark out, and the night is hiding around the corner, slowly creeping closer. A mild breeze ruffles my curls and I feel them bounce, springier than ever from the damp air. It just rained. It’s odd how often the weather matches my mood so perfectly.

 

I don’t understand. What did I do wrong? Why would she end it? End us? We were so good together. I really love her, and I tried my best. But my best never seems to be enough. Whether it comes to Agatha, the Mage, my classes or the whole magickal world: I’m never enough. I might be the Chosen one, but sometimes I wonder who chose me.

 

It’s darker between the trees in the Wavering Wood. The air here is heavier, and the sweet aroma of bark and pine needles  is stronger than most days. I don’t know where I’m going, but frankly I don’t care. I just need to get away.

 

Why did Agatha have to do it just before supper? I’m hungry, but I can’t bear to walk in there and see her face. Besides, I know Penny will notice, and I’ll have to explain. I’ll tell her when I’ve cleared my head for a bit.

 

Suddenly I notice a clearing. The orange glow of sunset is just barely touching the trees on one side of the small opening. I slowly approach it, and in the scarce light I glimpse a small sea of powdery blue flowers, growing in a faultless square. Next to it a touch of yellow, surrounded by enormous pinks. A large stone is placed in the middle, and all along its left side are climbing roses, clasping to the nooks and cracks with their thorns like mountain climbers do with their equipment. The roses are the only flowers I know the name of, and they’re beautiful. Their classic crimson shade reminds me of blood. Even though the plants are arranged in a chaotic mix of colors, the way they form organized rows and shapes is oddly calming. Not a single flower seems out of place, they all  _ belong. _ It feels like I belong too, and I can finally breathe.

 

It all looks perfectly tended to, and on the bare side of the rock I see a rake and trowel. I wonder who takes care of it. I guess it could be Ebb, but I never knew she cared much for flowers. I guess I’ll just have to ask her. The sun’s not down yet, she should still be up. I want to ask her, but I don’t want to leave. I wish I could stay here forever, away from all the… chaos and madness and magic and the big mess that is my life. But I need to know.

 

I finally make my way to her little cottage, and when I arrive it doesn’t take her long to open the door.

 

“What are you doing here at this hour, Simon?” she asks. “Are you all right? Sit down.” I sit down on a stump of wood serving as stool.

 

“Well, uhm, yeah. Not really, but that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to ask you about this little garden I found in the Wavering Wood.” I answer.

“Oh, I think I’ve seen it. I don’t like to go in there with the goats, they don’t like the darkness and there’s not much to eat, but I occasionally go on strolls on my own. S’pose it’s the creatures.” She tells me, dipping her hand into the pocket of her jumper to bring out a tangled ball of yarn, which she slowly starts to entangle, carefully raking her fingers through it. 

 

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” I say, dumbstruck. “But, wait, that doesn’t make any sense. There were gardening tools there. I don’t think any of the creatures would use that, would they?”

 

“No, but neither would anyone with magick.” Ebb looks at me, amused. She places the ball of yarn she was untangling on the small wooden table behind her and sighs. “You’re funny Simon. You get so easily distracted and caught up with things.”

 

“Well, I just want to tell the gardener that their flowers are beautiful and that I really like it. If you find out who it is, you’ll tell me, yeah?” I ask.

 

“Of course.” 

  
  


The next afternoon, after class, I head to the secret garden. Part of me hopes to catch the gardener, but part of me wants to have the stillness and tranquility of the flowers all for myself.

It’s even prettier in daylight. The sun gives everything a radiant shine, transforming dull grays to soft whites and yellows. I can’t get enough of it. I looked up some of the flowers in the library. I now recognize the yellow ones as daffodils. The large pink ones look like peonies, but I still don’t know the blue ones. They’re my favorites, besides the roses.

 

I lose myself in the fresh forest air and fuzzy sunshine, waiting for nothing and everything. Resting my back against the naked side of the rock I almost fall asleep. When it finally starts getting darker it hits me that maybe the gardener doesn’t come during the day, but at night. That’s what would make the most sense if it was a Watford student, which it  _ has  _ to be. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be a creature, and there aren’t any Normals in this forest as far as I know.

 

I make my way back to the school, determined to rest an hour or two before doing something I haven’t done in quite a while: lurking around in the dark. I used to follow Baz every night, but I accidentally told Agatha about it and she made me swear I would stop if she promised not to tell Penny (who would murder me). But this time, I don’t care what he does, I’m set on finding the secret gardener.

 

BAZ

“Snow?” I ask when he sits up, obviously trying his best at being quiet and terribly failing to do so. “Where are you going?”

 

“What’s that to you?” He answers, struggling to slip his socks on, jumping all over the floor.

 

“Well, you’re making quite the ruckus, thus disturbing my sleep.” I retort.

 

“As if you ever sleep.” He snickers ironically. “Well, I’m off.”

 

As he disappears into the night, I feel a strong urge to follow him. I don’t need to feed, so I should take the opportunity to get some rest while Simon isn’t here making me so uncomfortably aware of his presence.

 

But I just can’t. It’s even worse not knowing where he is, what he’s doing. And so I slip out, frowning when I see him on the lawn, heading for the Wavering Woods. As we go deeper into the forest, it gets harder to stay quiet. I don’t worry too much about him seeing me, it’s pitch black. I cast a “ **There’s nothing to see here** ”, but I still try to avoid stepping on twigs and branches, just in case.

 

The trees are looming over us in a familiar way, and I’m starting to get worried. He’s taking the path to – no. There’s no way that’s where he’s going.

 

When we approach the clearing, I stop breathing. Has he been here before? How did he find it? Why is he coming here now? Maybe I wasn’t careful enough, maybe he knows? Does he know I’m following him? Oh god, is he going to kill me in my mother’s garden?

 

The thoughts are spinning so fast in my head, I feel the panic rising but I  _ won’t. _ I think about running, about setting him on fire, about kissing him or biting him and setting  _ me  _ on fire. But instead of doing any of those wonderful horrible things I just stay painfully still, anxiously observing how the bastard hides behind the rock. I can’t help but wonder why. What is he hiding from? Maybe I should try to hide myself better too?

 

SIMON

It feels like I’ve been here for hours. I can’t feel my legs anymore. I don’t think the gardener is coming, and I’m too tired to wait any longer. The sun is only just starting to come up, and I need to get back before Baz wakes up.

 

BAZ

 

What the fuck? I just waited for about three hours in this godforsaken, freezing forest for absolutely nothing to happen? I’m going to kill him. And I have no idea how to get back fast enough for him not to see me walking in front of him. If he gets back to the room and I come after him, he’ll know I was following him.  _ Shit.  _ I turn back to check if he’s still there, thanking my vampire eyes for my brilliant night vision. Suddenly, he stops and turns back. This is my chance. I start walking faster and faster until I know I’m at a safe distance, and run.


	2. Friendly And Unfriendly Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon leaves a note for the gardener, telling them how much he loves the flowers, but it doesn't go as planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I want to thank my beta http://gotakobayashimarulife.tumblr.com/ (you really helped me out with this chapter, I was so unsure about everything tbh) who's been of great help!  
> I'm sorry this came a little later than I had planned, but I hope you guys enjoy it!

SIMON

Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe it’s a bad idea. It probably is, knowing me. But my hand travels on its own down to my pocket, fumbles around until it finds an old gum wrap and a pencil. I hesitate for a moment, letting my hand linger over the roses before I squeeze the note in between the thorns. 

 

**Hey,**

**I love your garden. The flowers are very nice. Just wanted you to know. :)**

**/A secret admirer (of the garden I mean)**

 

It’s a bit awkward, and I don’t know if they’ll like it, but I couldn’t help it. Something in this garden seems to draw me in, enthrall me. I want whoever made it possible to know that.

  
  
  
  


BAZ

When Simon enters the dining hall, I almost laugh. I should laugh, to hide the fact that I also want to hug him and take care of him for the rest of my life. And so, I do. I snicker quietly when he walks past my table, eyeing his ruffled curls and the bags under his eyes.

 

“Rough night, Snow?”

 

“Piss off, Baz.”

 

“I’m guessing for a passing grade there are many more all-nighters to come. It seems the Chosen One has bitten off more than he can chew.” I can see him clenching his jaw, furrowing his brow. He can be quite intimidating at times, but that won’t stop me. Being intimidating is my specialty. 

 

“Which is quite surprising really, considering the amount of food you can swallow in less than 30 seconds.” Dev and Niall chuckle in their diabolical way.

 

“I wasn’t studying-” He started, his voice low and an odd combination between thunderous and calm, like the steady rumbling at the start of a storm.

 

“Well, maybe you should have been.” I give him my best odious smirk. He approaches me with amazing speed before Bunce catches his arm.

 

“Simon, stop. He’s not worth it.” She sighs. “You two are hopeless. You’re never going to get anywhere if you keep squabbling like a pair of first years.”

 

SIMON

 

“Merlin and Morgana, I hate that prick.”

 

“Me too, but that’s not a reason to waste your time on him. Honestly, Simon. If only you could focus on what’s actually important, maybe we could get somewhere.”

 

“Well, it’s hard to defeat the Humdrum if I’m caught in some evil plan and killed by my evil roommate.” I say, shaking my head. Penny sighs and takes a sip of her tea.

 

“Look, Si. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Baz isn’t plotting your downfall. He has other things to focus on. How do you suppose he’s top of the class?”

 

“Maybe you’re right, but probably not. Anyway, I have to go.” I tell her, standing up.

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ll tell you later, ‘kay?”

 

“Fine. As long as it has nothing to do with Baz.”

 

“Yeah, I promise.”

 

SIMON

 

It’s amazing how the garden never fails to surprise me. Every time I come back, I discover something new, something beautiful and unexpected. Today, I notice a large flower pot has been placed on the stone. I walk closer to it, examining the cracks covering the white porcelain like a spiderweb. It must’ve been magicked together; no glue could ever fix it. I don’t know why they would bother, though; it looks old and worn out, buying a new one would look way better.

 

Under the pot, I notice a piece of paper. I can’t help but grin. Will I finally know?

 

The handwriting is a bit slanted, old fashioned, and very graceful. I’m guessing that means it’s a girl, but I know I Penny would be annoyed. Genders don’t have anything to do with handwriting.

 

_ Thank you. Your admiration is appreciated; however, I must pray you to stop visiting it. I’m but a lonely gardener tending to his flowers, and it would be quite nice to be left at peace. _

_ /The Gardener _

 

Oh. I guess it’s a him. I furrow my brow and place the note in my back pocket, only to take it out and read it again. No. I can’t stop coming. I won’t. He doesn’t own the ground, it belongs to Watford, he can’t tell me what to do. I refuse to give up. And so, I flip the note and dig around in the front pocket of my hoodie before finding the pencil stump.

 

**Look, I understand that you might not trust me because you don’t know me. But I really like this place, and I have a feeling we could be friends! Do you want to meet up? We could meet here at 8 tomorrow, right after dinner? You’re from Watford, right?**

**/The secret admirer**

 

BAZ

 

When I find the second note under my mother’s flower pot, it irritates me. Wasn’t I clear? I don’t want anyone lurking around here. This is my safe space, my sanctuary. Away from Snow and all his Snowiness, his chaotical magic and his catastrophically beautiful mess of a hair. His moles.

 

I will not have him take this away from me. I know it’s him. It must be, he was here the other night.

 

I take out the notebook from my bag and rip off a page. Scribbling furiously, I manage to come up with some coherent sentences.

 

_ I’m terribly sorry, but I seriously doubt you will change my mind. To answer your questions: No, I don’t want to be friends. No, I don’t want to meet up (I don’t even know who you are, for Crowley’s sake), and yes, I am from Watford, which doesn’t concern you at all. _

_ /The now slightly angered gardener _

 

SIMON

 

**I’m so sorry if I angered you, but hey why don’t u want to be friends? If u would just give me a chance I’m sure we could become good friends! What year u in? U sound pretty old (no offense or anything).**

**/The secret admirer (honestly idk what to call myself but if you want to know my name you’ll have to meet up with me :) )**

 

Maybe I’m pushing it, but frankly I don’t care. I’m desperate. I need this garden now and I can’t even explain why.

 

BAZ

 

_ I already told you, I have no intention of becoming friends with you, but if the only way to make you go away is to answer you questions, then I shall comply. I’m an eighth year. Now I’m sure that scared you off seeing as (judging from your writing) you are quite a bit younger than me. Now that that’s established, kindly piss off. _

_ /The now not-so-slightly-anymore angered gardener _

 

SIMON

 

**Why are you so mean? I’m just trying to be nice. Honestly, this only makes me want to keep coming more. Good luck getting rid of me. I love this garden too much.**

**/The secret admirer**

**P.S. I’m actually also an eighth year.**

 

BAZ

 

It’s him. It’s Snow. It’s Simon fucking Snow. Only he would keep going after this. Plus, I know it’s got to be an eighth year, and we aren’t that many. I decide not to reply. I can’t.

 

The days go by and I’m scared of going there. Scared of meeting him, of seeing new notes. It’s his place now. I’ll fight him on many things, I have to, but I don’t have the strength in me to face him on this one. It kind of makes me melt that he likes it, but it also breaks my heart. I can’t bear to tell him it’s me. It would be too embarrassing, and besides, he would probably destroy it immediately. Knowing it’s there but not being able to access it is better than knowing my mother’s memory is trampled over.

 

After a couple of weeks, I grow accustomed to it. Instead I start going to the Catacombs more often, escaping my sorrows amidst bones and cold stone. But the damp air and morbid shadows are not as comforting as the vivid colors of my favorite hide-out. I feel myself growing darker and sadder, if possible. I hate this.

 

SIMON

 

I never get a reply for the last note. I’ve tried hiding it in different places, making it more visible, but the gardener seems to be ignoring me. Which is fair, to be honest. I was a tad intrusive.

 

But what worries me is that some of the flowers start to look a bit wilted. And around the daffodils a couple of dandelions have started to grow. They’re not ugly, but I know they’ll spread and take over, suffocating the other plants. It hasn’t rained in a couple of days, and I notice the white flowers in the pot have started to tilt slightly to the left. They’re gigantic, and so perfect, so fragile. I want to protect them. The sadness that seems to be weighing them down awakens an idea in me. I won’t let the gardener abandon this place. I’ll just have to take care of it myself.


	3. The Last Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon finally finds his secret gardener...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it, guys... The last chapter. Once again I want to thank http://gotakobayashimarulife.tumblr.com/ for being my first beta, I've loved working with you! <3   
> I also feel like the lovely organizer of this event deserves another thank you: https://snowbazextravaganza.tumblr.com/

SIMON

 

 

This is a lot harder than I thought. Flowers are apparently very fragile and have different needs. I thought going by once a week to water them would be enough, but as it turns out, some require water every day, and some only every two weeks. And of course, it depends on the weather as well. I’m starting to get the hang of it, though. Every Wednesday I remove the weeds, and on Fridays I try to add something new, to make it more fun. I also try to replace the flowers that start to look a bit wilted as April turns into May that turns into June.

 

I start to grow a special kind of love for the garden. I feel at home there, much like the nostalgic comfort of Ebb’s cottage. I start coming there more and more often, and Penny starts to become a bit suspicious.

 

One day, when I come back from the garden, I find her waiting for me in our room.

 

“Christ, Penny, what are you doing here? Baz could come home at any minute!” I exclaim, closing the door after me. She ignores my question and stares up at me from my bed.

 

“Where were you?” She asks, her eyes intensely curious. I look away, advancing awkwardly to the middle of the room. “I know something’s going on, Simon, so you might as well tell me.” I consider my options for a moment. As per usual, she’s right.

 

“Uhm, I… I found this, uh, garden. It’s really nice. I love it there, but- it’s not- it was someone else’s  before.”

 

“Si, you’re not making any sense.” Penny sighs and shifts, crossing her legs and adjusting her skirt.

 

“Uhm, well… There was this person taking care of it, and I left them a note saying I liked what they’d done to the place, but he didn’t care to answer nicely. He had to be a prick, and then he stopped coming altogether I think, because the flowers started dying. So then I started to care for them instead.” I explain.

 

“Okay…” Penny says. “So that’s where you’ve been?”

 

“Yeah.” I answer. She snorts.

 

“If you didn’t seem so genuine I would think it was one of your weird covers for following Baz around. But you didn’t do the thing, so I know you’re not lying.”

 

“What thing?” I ask, bewildered.

 

“Well if you knew, then you would never do it again.” She raises an eyebrow, which reminds me a bit of Baz. They’re not that different, after all, but Baz is a brilliant twat and Penny is just brilliant.

 

 

BAZ

 

 

It’s getting harder and harder not to go to mother’s garden. Simon is being unsurprisingly and probably involuntarily obvious about going there, and it hurts. I want to know why he keeps going; all the flowers must have wilted by now.

 

But I don’t, because I can’t. I can’t because what if he’s started to take over? What if he’s the one watering my lovely hydrangeas? What if he changed out mother’s old flower pot? Or worse: what if-

 

“Baz, move.”

 

I look up. Simon is towering above me, magic oozing out of him as always like a live, pulsating, green thing. Every muscle of my body tenses but stays in place, except for one eyebrow, flying up to my widow’s peak.

 

“Crowley, you prick, would you please move?” He tries again, raising his voice. I move my legs from where they were resting on his bed, but make sure to kick him in the shin while he moves between our beds.

 

“Oops.” I smirk.

 

“Fuck you.” He retorts, rubbing the spot.

 

“You wish, little numpty.”

 

“What did you just call me?” He snaps.

 

“A small numpty.” I can’t help but snicker quietly at him. Suddenly he jumps at me, grabbing me by the collar, which only makes me laugh more. “Anathema.” I remind him, and he stares into my eyes and I see  _ something _ underneath the anger, but it’s not hurt  _ (I want to kiss him) _ I know hurt Snow. It’s something else, regret maybe?  _ (I want him to kiss me) _ Confusion? He breathes in a few shaky times, holding his grip a few seconds longer before he lets me go.

 

 

SIMON

 

 

I keep leaving the notes. Every day I find something new to write about. Sometimes it’s some random thing Penny said that sounds good, sometimes it’s a doodle. Sometimes I ask for advice, even though I know it won’t be answered. At this point, I’m not sure I want them to come back and read everything. There’s so much personal stuff there. Sometimes I write about Baz, or Penny, or Agatha. Sometimes about the Mage.

 

My heart feels lighter every day, like I’ve been building up a heavy rain cloud inside. Finally, I know what to do with it.

 

 

BAZ

 

 

Notes are scattered all over the garden, some stuck between branches, some sticking out of flower pots or placed under rocks. One is hiding under the shovel. Most of them are written on checkered paper, some on post-it notes.

 

After the fifth note, I need to do  _ something.  _ Or else, my heart will explode. Maybe, just maybe, I can tell him how I feel. He won’t know it’s me. The idiot would suspect the Insidious Humdrum before even considering me a possibility.

 

I inhale deeply and dig around in my pocket for a piece of paper or something. I find one of Simon’s old notes and one of my favorite fountain pens. Not ideal, but it will have to do.

On the backside, I write 3 words.

 

_ I love you. _

 

I turn to run, but suddenly something cracks. Someone steps on a twig. Someone stares right into my eyes in disbelief. Someone walks up to me and takes the note from me, reads it.

 

“Did you know it was me?” He asks, sounding a bit strangled. I don’t answer. “This actually kind of makes sense.” He then states, letting a soft, twisted smile spread on his face, blue eyes fixed on some invisible spot. We stand in silence for a couple of minutes. Nothing has ever been more awkward, and I feel a lump growing in my throat, making my breathing uneven and my head heavy. The same words keep lighting my brain up like an unwanted warning sign.  _ What will he do what will he do what will he do? _

 

He’s quite close, his breath a small puff of heat between us. I want to run, but my legs won’t listen. Won’t move.  _ Crowley, I want to kiss him. _

SIMON

He’s so close, and he looks so helpless, so broken. I want to help. I want to kiss him. It’s weird. I don’t know why, but-

 

“I- Simon, I…” He starts.

 

“ _ Oh won’t you shut the fuck up?”  _ I don’t say. Instead I shut him up myself.

 

 

BAZ 

 

 

Holy snakes, I’m alive. And he’s alive. Simon Snow is undeniably, inevitably the most alive person in the entire universe. And his lips are moving against mine, his hand carefully brushes at my hair. I cup his chin with my hand as I break us apart.

 

“Wha-” I try to stutter.

 

“Shhh.”

 

And he kisses me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you really liked this, know that I'll be writing for the Snowbaz Summer Extravaganza as well, so stay tuned! :)


End file.
